Thank You
by LeeMorrigan
Summary: Following BvsS, Bruce W. begins looking in on Martha K., feeling he owes her. Alfred starts helping, Lois is pulled in by Martha because a mother worries, Diana also plays a part, & Bruce deals with his ghosts in a new way. Martha worries. Alfred takes care of everyone. Also, Alfred & Martha are amazing & don't get enough credit for raising the brave, amazing men who became heroes.


Based on headcanon from Archangelgabrielhasthetardis  
This takes place a bit after the end of BATMAN VS. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, so spoilers - but none from JUSTICE LEAGUE or WONDER WOMAN. Also published, under the same title, on AO3.

Three months following the duel funerals of an alien-turned-hero, Bruce Wayne found himself sitting in a Jeep just outside of the Kent family home. He had been sitting outside for nearly seven minutes. During a flight that was taking him near Smallville, he had decided it would be a good idea to go check on . It had been a good idea, he thought, until he pulled into the driveway outside her home. Then it suddenly seemed like the worst idea he had come up with in an age.

He had closed his eyes, leaning his head back, and was about to just drive off when he heard the crunch of someone walking through the gravel drive. Looking over, he saw . Floral print shirt that looked sun faded enough to have been older than Clark, faded blue jeans, tan slip on shoes, and a navy sweater that he would be willing to bet someone had knitted by hand. The clothing one would expect on a farmer's wife. The unexpected part was the soft smile on her face. He was about to roll down the window, except that the car engine had been off too long, giving a chance to knock on the window before Bruce got the engine turned over.

"Hello, ."

He nodded. There was a pause before her smile widened slightly. The warmth of her smile and tone were a stark contrast to the dark circles under her eyes and the few extra lines around those dark eyes had that not been there when Batman introduced himself to the human mother of Superman.

"You gonna come inside, or should I bring the lemonade out here?"

He smiled.

"Thank you."

She stepped back, letting him have room to open the door and walk with her into the house.

Once they were seated inside, sipping lemonade, conversation resumed.

"What brings you to Smallville, ? I can't imagine there is a lot of multi-million dollar deals or charity galas that would bring you here."

He smiled a smile that showed no teeth. Martha wondered when the last time had smiled a genuine, toothy smile. Not for the first time, she thought that may have been one of the things she missed most about Clark. And Jonathan. Jonathan wasn't one for showing an abundance of emotions, but for her and for Clark, he had a smile that could not be matched. And Clark. Clark had a smile that was bright as the sun. Martha let out a breath. She was starting to learn to breathe again. It still hurt to breathe, knowing Clark nolonger drew breath.

"I was flying nearby and someone mentioned farms. I thought I would come see the only farmer I know."

She nodded. It was a lie, or at least part of it. She could tell even if she hadn't been able to guess as much. was doing what many of her friends, people she went to school with in childhood, or church with some years ago, were all doing. Everyone seemed to think she was going to fall to pieces. That they would find her sitting in the center of the house, hair a mess, clothing unwashed, and near catatonic while the house crumbled around her. Clark and Jonathan would not want that and she refused to do anything less than to keep pressing on.

"It is always nice to have company. How is that young lady who came with you to...", she didn't finish. She still couldn't say it.

"She is traveling, seeing an old friend. She sounded well on the phone, when last we spoke."

Martha nodded. She never got a chance to speak to the young woman who had been there during her son's final fight. However, from what Lois said, the young woman had saved and she had held the beast still to give Clark the best chance possible at the end.

"And the gentleman who looks after you, ?"

He nodded, a little spark of warmth passing through his dark eyes. Martha could tell there was so much more to the relationship between the billionaire and the butler.

"He's as irascible as ever. When I said I was stopping by here, he said to ask how you liked the tea?"

Martha smiled wide, remembering exactly the tea in question.

"You can tell him his gift was much appreciated and that it was delicious."

Bruce had not been aware Alfred had gifted with tea, however it did not surprise him. Alfred always knew just what people needed. A gift that Bruce sometimes envied.

As Bruce packed for his business trip, he also made a point to include a plain Tshirt, faded blue jeans, work boots, and a pair of leather work gloves. As he was putting them into his one pack, he saw Alfred from the corner of his eye. He never heard Alfred approach. Ever.

"Stopping by the Kent Farm on your way to Chicago, Master Bruce?"

Bruce just looked up at Alfred, then back to his packing.

"Ah. Well, when you do see again, do give her this."

He handed Bruce a small package that, according to the weight and the scent, was another package of tea. Bruce took the package to carefully place it in his luggage. It smelled like an assortment of different teas, some black, some green, at least one white, and something herbal.

"After tragedy, we often need help sleeping and keeping our minds from driving us into the ground. It is the little things that help you get through the sweeping tide."

Bruce zipped up his last bag. Whenever Alfred turned into a Zen master, they both knew Bruce probably was not going to respond. Shouldering the larger of his two bags and taking the handle of the other in his free hand, Bruce stood in front of Alfred. He had been packing and leaving ever since the day he left for college and it never got easier. There was always that voice that whispered at the back of his mind that he might never see Alfred again. Bruce's plane could crash. Alfred could have a massive coronary. There were a million reasons that this might be the last time Bruce ever spoke to the only family he had left in the world. He was not uneducated enough to have no idea where it came from.

"Have a safe trip, Master Bruce. Try not to overtax yourself with the cattle or mending fences."

Bruce felt a small smile.

"I will do my best."

Alfred nodded, then turned and strode out, silent as the grave. Sometimes Bruce wondered if Alfred had trained as a ninja back in Butler-School. Other times he wondered just what type of military training Alfred had received back in Her Majesty's Service.

Martha found herself worrying about . This last time he arrived at her home, he had worn a faded bruise over one eye, a busted lip, and some very obvious bruises around his ribs. And yet he still worked on the farm to take care of a few things Martha found she could not do alone and she had yet to ask anyone's help for. Checking fences, she could do, but not all the mending. Fixing new metal shingles to the roof after a bunch flew off in the last big storm, was a job she would never attempt to do alone. Jonathan tried to do it alone once, and she came home to find him with a broken arm sitting in the porch swing. She had been using the truck and their other car wasn't running. It never occurred to him to call the ambulance to come. He just waited for her. The first time she tried to do the repair without Jonathan around, Clark had just about had a minor heart attack. Since then, she always called someone to spot her while she worked on the roof.

As Martha watched working on her porch, reattaching her porch swing that also came flying off in the last storm, she shook her head. His arms had faded bruises and she could tell the he wore some sort of bandage just below his heart. He probably gave his butler quite a scare recently. He wasn't like Clark. No one was, really. But he did what her Clark had done. He sacrificed himself to try to help others. Unlike Clark, he was just as fragile as she and Jonathan. Martha was about to step out onto the porch and offer another glass of lemonade when she noticed him sway a bit on the ladder he was standing on. Immediately, she went out on the porch.

" , I think you could use a break."

He looked over his shoulder at her, sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He nodded, then carefully held the sides of the ladder as he came down. Martha offered a smile, then held the door open for him to go into the kitchen. She had frozen lemonade in ice cube trays and freshly made lemonade in a pitcher. She poured a glass and added the lemonade ice cubes before she handed the glass to .

"Here. Take a few sips and sit down a while."

Before he could argue, she continued.

"Your not used to the weather here, . It takes a while to get used to. Especially when your healing up from taking a beating."

He arched an eyebrow at her and she just smiled.

"I noticed the bruises and white bandage under your white shirt. If you need another bandage, let me know. Jonathan used to get hurt so often and he refused to go to a doctor unless he had a broken or dislocated bone. He once cut his hand open on some wire and wrapped it up so I wouldn't know until it had healed up a bit. Two days later, he went to pick up a pitcher of tea for the minister, and it slid right out of his hand. When I went in, I thought he had cut himself trying to clean it up. Oh his hand was a mess."

Bruce found himself amazed at listening to her speaking of her late husband. On the rare occasion he spoke about his parents, he was aware how flat his tone often was. Not like . She sounded more like she was talking about a spouse who was off on a fishing trip, not someone who had been dead for several years. For all of his worrying about her, and the worrying her neighbors did, it seemed was stronger than all of them. Then, suddenly her hand came out to lay overtop of his hand, a concerned look in her dark eyes.

"You've got a cut on your wrist."

Bruce looked, noticing it for the first time. The swing had slipped in his grip, however he did not recall feeling the spring ont he swing hitting his wrist. He must have been too focused on not dropping the antique swing to the porch. Before he could say anything, had gotten up and was disappearing down the hall. She returned a moment later with a plastic tackle box that she opened on the kitchen table. It was filled with an abundance of various medical supplies. Bandages in all sizes and of about a dozen different types. Antibiotic ointments, sting-relief creme, and even tongue depressors.

"Here. I'll have you cleaned up in no time."

Bruce found himself somewhat taken aback. He was not accustomed to anyone but Alfred tending to his wounds, unless it was his own hands. To have someone else seeing to cleaning up his cuts and taping a bandage over it, was something he was nearly shocked at. The even stranger part was the tenderness with which she dispensed her mothering. Bruce nearly choked. looked up at him, worried.

"Thank you.", he muttered as best he could.

As soon as she was done, Bruce got up and went back out onto the porch to finish rehanging the swing. He needed air. And space.

Lois was surprised when she received an invitation from Martha to come to the farm for Thanksgiving. Somehow, she had figured both of them would just be sitting alone and miserable in their respective abodes. She had pictured Martha at that kitchen table, looking at the empty chairs around it, crying, and maybe sipping some of Jonathan's old bourbon he brought out on occasion, according to Clark. Clark had always said the smell of bourbon made him think of New Year's and his grandfather's birthday. Clark told her, once, that on his grandfather's birthday, Jonathan Kent used to go out into the barn and sip bourbon. Martha had told Clark it was because that was something Jonathan's father used to do with Jonathan and some of the other men around on special occasions such as the Fourth of July or the party his wife held for him on his birthday. Clark had never gone out to join his father before Jonathan died. It was something Clark still carried as a deep regret till the day he also died. Lois let out a breath, trying to remember to breathe. The apartment felt so cold without Clark. Funny, considering Clark was the one who always had the windows open to let the air flow through. No matter how many hot baths she took, how many heaters she ran, or how many blankets she piled over the bed, the apartment was never warm. Worse, Clark's stuff was losing his scent. She was not sure going to the Kent Farm would help. On one hand, there was so much of Clark there. On the other hand, there was so much there to remind her that Clark wasn't here anymore.

"Lois?"

She turned, finding none other than Perry White looking at her with the most concerned look she had ever seen on his face.

"Is everything alright?", he asked.

"Just packing up for the holiday."

He nodded.

"Going off for a story?"

She shook her head.

"No, actually. I'm uh... I'm going to the Kent Farm for...the holiday."

When she looked up, the wind was knocked out of her due to the slight sheen in Perry's eyes. In all the time she had known him, she had rarely seen him emotional. Passionate about a story, angry at her for a stunt she had pulled, and even excited about a headline worth salivating over, but never truly emotional aside from the day Metropolis was nearly decimated by Zodd.

"Tell that I asked about her."

She nodded, feeling a little like crying. It was amazing how often simple acts of kindness now set her off to wanting to crumble in a heap of tears.

"I will."

Grabbing her bag and her computer, Lois stood and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. Really it was one of Clark's. No one mentioned it to her.

"Have a good Thanksgiving, Perry."

He leaned forward, giving her a one-armed hug around all her stuff.

"Eat a lot of turkey and stuffing, Lane."

She smiled into his shoulder and nodded, then hurried off once he let her go. She was not going to cry. At least not until she got to the elevator. A plane ride later, she was in a rented car, pulling into Martha Kent's driveway. She had expected Martha's beat up truck to be there and maybe the family car she and Jonathan had supposedly had since Moses was a toddler, according to Clark. What she had been shocked to see was the sleek, spotless BMW parked beside a dusty, solid black Jeep Renegade, both by Martha's truck. Lois walked up, a pitiful store-bought pie in her hands from a place near the airport. There had been a reason Clark did most of the cooking at their place. When she stepped in, she nearly dropped the sad pie. There was a distinguished looking gentleman helping Martha pull out the turkey to check the status of the stuffing or some such thing and billionaire Bruce frickin' Wayne was peeling potatoes over the kitchen table. Lois was dumbstruck. She was almost certain she was dreaming. Lately her dreams had been filled with reruns of the worst night of her life. Perhaps it was time to go see that psychiatrist her landlord tried to give the card for last week. Martha came over quickly, hugging her.

"I'm so glad you came."

"I brought pie.", came Lois's quiet response as Martha moved back to look at her. Martha looked good, her hair done and wearing a nice green dress with an amber and black sweater.

"Oh good. With four of us here, the pie I have might not be enough. At least we'll have plenty to go around."

Martha smiled at her and Lois felt a bit better. Some of the tightness in her chest releasing. Alfred came over next, hands out.

"Here, let me put that into the refrigerator for you, ."

She handed the pie to him and tried to smile.

"Thanks."

He held out one hand, the other balancing the pie like an expert waiter might.

"Alfred Pennyworth."

She took his hand and he gave a polite shake.

"Lois Lane."

moved away with the pie, settling it into the fridge as Bruce Wayne came over.

"Hello, ."

She nodded.

"May I take your coat?"

She slipped it off, then handed it to him. She felt almost frozen without it. It was far too big for her, having been Clark's, but it still had a hint of his aftershave on the collar and there were notes in the pockets in Clark's sickeningly neat script. Martha had taught him penmanship that would have made John Hancock weep. As Bruce Wayne hung up Clark's coat, Lois stepped further in.

"Martha, is there anything I can do? I'm not a great cook or anything, but I could... cut vegetables or something?"

Martha offered her that motherly smile again.

"Actually, I haven't finished the tea yet. If you wouldn't mind, it could use sugar and stirring."

She nodded.

A while later, after the food had been well dug into and the plates were cleaned off and drying in the rack, Alfred had gone outside to enjoy his pipe for a bit and Lois had gone up to Clark's room to rest as she was trying not to fall asleep over dinner. Martha found out on the front porch, checking on the swing as she brought out coffee.

" , would you like some coffee?"

He nodded and she handed him a cup.

"Thank you, ."

She smiled.

"You can call me Martha. After all the work you've done around here and all the fussing over me that you and have done, I think we've long past the need for calling me ."

He smiled at her with a pain in his eyes that she swore made her own heart break a little. There were only two kinds of pain that made the eyes turn that dark. The loss of a child and the loss of a parent. As far as she knew, Bruce Wayne had been single and childless, so that left his parents. Even in Smallville they had newspapers. She remembered reading about his parents being killed.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't."

She nodded.

"That's alright."

He offered her a slightly less pained looking smile, that still showed no teeth. Again she wondered if he ever really smiled.

"You may feel free to call me Bruce. Only my employees and those trying to suck up to me, call me ."

Martha nodded.

"Thank you for coming, Bruce. It was good not to be alone today."

He nodded.

"I think Alfred enjoyed himself. I'm not sure about ."

Martha nodded.

"I think she was sort've...lost in her own world, before Clark. He was just lost, in his head, in the world, and then he met her. They were going to build a life together, and he even said to her that she was his world. I don't think she's ready to say goodbye to all of that just yet."

Bruce nodded.

"I think I'm going to check on that tractor you said was giving you trouble."

Martha nodded her thanks as Bruce walked off, coffee cup in hand, and grabbing his work gloves out of his Jeep as he walked off towards the barn. She was about to turn back into the house until she realized there was a tweed-covered chest in the way. Looking up, she saw Alfred looking at the barn Bruce was walking into.

"I'm sorry he rebuffed your offer so abruptly, ."

Martha looked up at the British gentleman, confused.

"I beg your pardon?"

"When you asked him to call you by your first name."

She nodded, shrugging it off.

"I sometimes forget he is not just another Smallville townsperson. We're a little less formal around here."

Alfred let out a small sigh, his shoulders almost going more rigid to a near-military look. Martha wondered, for the hundredth time, what Alfred's background actually was before he became the Wayne Family Butler.

"The Waynes were very good to me, at a time when I did not realize how much I needed it. And I have done my best to raise their son and care for him in their absence, however I am not Thomas Wayne, or Martha Wayne."

Martha's mouth opened in surprise. Alfred gave her a quick, almost apologetic smile, then turned back into the house. Looking back towards the barn, Martha found her heart breaking anew. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, supposed playboy, rumoured extreme sports enthusiast, and orphaned by violent crime, and had not only been helping take care of her home for the last several months and looking after her, but he had kept calling her not because he thought he was better than her. Not because he was a stiff-shirt type. It was because he could not say his mother's name.

Diana Prince stared at her phone. She had already played back 's message, inviting her to Thanksgiving at the Kent Family Farm. She had been invited last year as well, but it had felt wrong to go, so she came up with an excuse to be gone. A meta-human hunt or seeing an old friend. Bruce had known she was lying yet kept that to himself. Alfred passed along her apologies for her and she had sent a fruit basket to arrive purposefully late. Two days after Thanksgiving, had received a large basket with fruit and a note thanking her for the invitation to Thanksgiving and wishing her well. It had seemed the best idea she could come up with at the time, to make sure ate well and knew she was thought of, without being overly pushy about it.

This year, atop the invitation message from , she received a series of text messages from one Bruce Wayne.

-Will you be coming this year, Diana?-

She had been about to respond when she received the second message.

-I will be at your building, at 7P.M. to pick you up.-

She erased her unsent message and typed a new one.

-Who said I was attending or that I was at my apartment?-

There was a very short pause before she received her answer.

-I know you are home, for starters. Secondly, you skipped out last year. This year you should go.-

Diana let out a breath.

-Things are different this year, Diana.-

She growled between her teeth. This American holiday was one she preferred to avoid. It brought up too many painful memories for her. She typed a response that surprised even herself.

-I will be ready at 7. Should I bring something for the supper?-

She could practically see the smug look on Bruce's face.

-I took the liberty of acquiring a pair of pies. You can claim one of them. Last year baked an apple pie and Lois brought an anemic pumpkin one.-

Diana chuckled. Somehow she could not see Bruce Wayne digging into a fresh Apple pie made in a Smallville farmhouse. It was a little too wholesome. Her heart twisted a little. Apple pie made by someone's mom in a farm house kitchen would have been something Steve would have done with relish. The man had possessed the worst sweet tooth, especially for sweet baked pastries.

Diana was ready in record time, trading her fashionable couture for simple boots, jeans, and a nice amber-coloured sweater. Bruce had mentioned, at some point, that he had worn jeans last year and that Lois had been in the same clothing she had been at work in. She packed an overnight bag, just in case they stayed past dinner, and was in the lobby waiting when Bruce pulled up in one of his many fancy, foreign cars. He stepped out in his own dark jeans, a button up shirt, and a grey vest. With the jeans and the sleeves rolled up, he looked more like a middle class guy about to go have drinks with friends and less like a billionaire business tycoon. He reached for her bag almost immediately after coming into the lobby.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying my own burdens, ."

He offered her one of his polite smiles, but with a teasing edge to it she had begun to enjoy seeing on him.

"I am well aware of that, . I am simply offering, as a gentleman, to take it and put it away for you."

She handed him the bag, however she grabbed the door for them to walk through, though Bruce beat her to the passenger door to hold it open for her. She smiled, letting him hold it as she slid into the passenger seat. He quickly took care of her bag and was sliding into the driver's side. They rode to the airport, getting into a Wayne plane, and heading out as close to Smallville as they could get. Then they got into a Jeep, and headed for the Kent Family Farm. Diana and Bruce spent most of the trip in companionable silence until they got into the jeep.

"I never pictured you as a Jeep man."

He smiled a little, showing no teeth, but with a warmth in his dark eyes that showed he had a better sense of humour than people gave him credit for.

"I never pictured you in blue jeans."

Diana smiled, pulling her chin up to a proper princess's pose.

"I find them to be quite comfortable, however inappropriate for the circles I find myself in these days."

"My dad taught me to drive in an old Jeep. I wasn't anywhere near old enough for the lessons, but he thought it would be fun to teach me in back of the mansion one week. I thought my mom was going to have some kind of spasm when she found out."

Diana looked over at him, genuinely curious. He so rarely spoke of his parents.

"And when she learned of the lessons, did she get very upset?"

Bruce's smile was wistful, bittersweet even.

"She smiled and asked if I enjoyed driving."

Diana felt herself smiling as she thought of the scene that must have been. A little Bruce, free of the pain and weight life would shortly bring him, gazing up at his mom with worry and his father looking sheepish at a woman who was half his size with eyes that spoke of a hidden steel. Then the woman smiling warmly at her boys, unable to be angry at them when no one was hurt and they had clearly had such a good time just being boys.

When they arrived at the Kent Farm, Lois's shiny rental was already pulled in next to Martha's beat up truck, and Alfred shiny BMW was parked on the other side, leaving a perfect spot for Bruce's jeep. They had barely gotten out of the car when Martha came out to greet them. She stood for a moment in front of Diana before wrapping her in a hug that felt so motherly, Diana found she suddenly ached to hug her mother again.

"Thank you for coming, and thank you for the baskets last year. They were much appreciated."

Martha moved back, looking up at Diana. The Thanksgiving basket wasn't the only one she had sent over those bitter months of mourning.

"Your welcome and I am grateful to have been invited again, to your home on this holiday."

Bruce called overtop the car, "How's the tractor?"

Martha beamed over at him.

"Purring like a kitten."

Bruce nodded, then moved to get their bags out of the back. However, when he got to the back, he felt a whoosh of air before he looked up to find Clark already waiting, that smug smile on his face.

"Hey, Bruce. Welcome back to Smallville."

Bruce let out a deep breath.

"Pretty spry, for a dead guy."

Clark just shrugged and opened the back, grabbing the bags, and whooshing past Bruce again to go inside.

"I made up both guest rooms, as well as Clark's old room since he and Lois are staying. The two of you are more than welcome to stay."

Bruce was about to make an excuse when Alfred appeared on the porch.

"You've nothing scheduled for tomorrow, master Bruce. We could stay in one guest room and leave the other to ."

It seemed he had already been overruled. Diana stepped onto the porch, greeting Alfred with a wide, warm smile.

"It is good to see you again, Alfred."

He grinned at her, losing ten years of age from what Bruce could see.

"It is good to see you again, as well, Princess."

Bruce would swear, to his dying day, Diana still blushed every time Alfred called her by her title. It had become a pet name that Alfred used for her in greeting, to tease her much the way an uncle would tease a favorite niece. Bruce caught himself occasionally using it, although usually when he was trying to annoy Diana or when he was about ready to roll his eyes in exasperation.

Inside, he was greeted by Lois, who was still a bit more reserved than the Smallville folk. The matching gold band flashed on her finger where last year only a diamond engagement ring had encircled her finger. Alfred, Clark, and had made up the turkey and most of the go-alongs this year, including the mashed potatoes. Bruce put both of his pies in the fridge, grateful to see neither 's apple pie nor the store bought atrocity Lois had brought last year.

"Thank you for the pies, Bruce."

He nodded.

"The black raspberry one is mine. Diana brought the pumpkin one."

looked over at the woman who, even in jeans and a sweater, looked far too poised and powerful to be in a farmhouse kitchen, while also seemingly perfectly situated with her friends at the same time.

"Thank you, Diana. It looks delicious!"

Diana nodded.

"I thought so when I saw it."

She gave Bruce a look and he just gave her a slight smirk off one corner of his lips, before ducking back onto the front porch to check on that swing. It had not yet come off since he replaced it for last year. He liked to check it though, just to make sure it was still solid as a rock. From the porch, as he checked the swing, he felt eyes on him. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

"What's wrong, Clark? Your super hearing pick up something I should worry about?"

He heard the floorboards creak as Clark stepped closer.

"I wanted to thank you."

Bruce looked over at his teammate and saw the guilt in those fluorescent blue eyes. Turning back to his handiwork, he continued to check the solid setting of the springs.

"What are you talking about Clark? I came because I was invited."

"That's not what I meant, and we both know you knew that. I mean for the months I was gone. When I first got out of that grave, I wasn't myself. I needed to think and.. I wasn't sure it would be safe or a good idea to come back. I didn't know how the world would react and I couldn't come back to Lois and my mom, just to have to leave again when things went bad because I had proven I could rise from the dead. You looked after them for me. Lois told me how you and Alfred invited her over, that Alfred showed up a few times to cook food for a couple weeks' worth of meals and would do some of her laundry, that you would introduce her to people she needed to talk to for articles she was writing, and that a shrink who worked with a lot of the Wayne employees three years ago just happened to be at a party to give her card to Lois. You fixed tractors and fences, even this old swing my dad bought for her as a wedding present, and you checked up on her to make sure she was alright. Not many people would do that for the mother and fiance of a man they barely knew."

Bruce wanted to run. He didn't want to hear this.

"You died protecting my city. I couldn't leave them high and dry."

Clark nodded. Neither spoke for a long moment.

"I just needed to say Thanks, for all of it."

Clark let out a small laugh, causing Bruce to look at him in confusion. Clark smiled as he looked up at him.

"It is Thanksgiving, after all."

Bruce went back to checking on the swing as Clark left. But once Clark was gone, Bruce allowed a small smile. He could hear Alfred and talking about how to best handle the stuffing as if the two had been cooking together for ages. Lois was letting out a surprised noise as Clark sneaked up behind her to wrap her up in his arms so he could watching over her head as she worked on making the tea. And Diana, from what Bruce could see in his peripheral and through the window, was laying out the plates for everyone, a beaming smile gracing her face. He had not celebrated holidays much since his parents died. Alfred had tried. Oh how he had tried. The best he had been able to do was Christmas, he would hang up he and Bruce's stockings- hanging up Martha and Thomas's was too painful for the both of them, and they would have hot chocolate by the fireplace with the tree lit in white lights with red, gold, white, and yellow bulbs on it just like Martha had done the last Christmas they had as a whole family. This was the first time that Bruce had been able to not just endure a holiday, but found himself looking forward to it and now, enjoying it. He was about to duck into the Jeep to get his phone when Diana appeared in the doorway.

"Martha is about to put dinner on the table. Are you coming in?"

Bruce nodded, walking forward to follow Diana into the kitchen. and Lois were already seated, Alfred was putting the turkey on the table, and Clark was getting the utensils to carve and serve the turkey. Bruce pulled Diana's chair for her, then moved around to the empty seat between Alfred and , as she sat at the head of the table, Diana to her left, then Lois, and Clark at the opposite head. looked around.

"Now, before we carve, Grace."

Alfred and Clark quickly lowered their heads, as if they had both eaten at the Kent table thousands of times when only one of them had. Lois took a couple seconds before following suit, Diana looking around once before lowering her head, and Bruce lowering his head with a small half-smile as prayed the traditional Grace until she should have said, "Amen", and instead added her own twist.

"And thank you, for bringing my family back."

She looked up and smiled at all those gathered around her once-empty table.

"All of them. Amen."

Clark muttered a quiet, "Amen" and everyone else moved to continue whatever conversations they had been having before called for the prayer. Bruce passed the cranberry sauce over to and thought to himself, he could get used to having a place to come every Thanksgiving, and sharing it with people who he knew would be there every year just like last year. When he caught Alfred looking back at him, he was aware that Alfred knew what he was thinking. He could see the peace that it gave Alfred. It might not be the woman making an honest man of Bruce and a bunch of mini-Waynes running around, but it was enough. Alfred spoke up to the table.

"Did I ever tell any of you about the time I tried to teach Bruce how ride a horse?"

chuckled as she put some turkey on her plate.

"I think I have heard this one."

Clark looked up, smiling, and Lois got that reporter look.

"I haven't!"

"Well, I noticed him paying attention to the horses one day and thought I would teach him to ride. It couldn't be that hard, I had thought to myself."

Bruce just ducked his head to take another bite of the turkey Alfred and had worked so diligently on. He would wait till Alfred got to the part where he broke his own ankle, before he would chime in.


End file.
